


Raise Your Glass To The Ceiling

by WingIt



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Otayuri, actual dads Victor and Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingIt/pseuds/WingIt
Summary: Otabek is visiting Russia and Yuri couldn’t be happier with the chance to spend some quality time with his friend. To celebrate Otabek’s first night, the two of them go out to a bar with Mila in tow. The music is fun, Yuri is experiencing vodka for the first time and everything is going perfectly.…That is, until Mila starts flirting with Otabek.





	1. Chapter 1

Leopard print tank with a black hoody? Or purple tank with a tiger hoody?

Yuri holds both options against his body as he stands in front of the mirror, lip caught between his teeth as he deliberates between the two outfits. Leopard print is his favourite, but the purple kind of brings out the green in his eyes? Or so he’s been told. After five long minutes of unsuccessful contemplation he sighs, tosses the clothes onto his bed and flops down heavily on top of them.

It’s dumb that he’s wasting time thinking about this. It’s not even a big deal, what clothes he’s going to wear. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

But it kind of is.

A month ago, Yuri and Otabek had arranged over Skype to finally have a real-life visit, where they can have an actual, face-to-face conversation without the interruption of mismatched time zones or crappy Wi-Fi. In the few years he’s known Otabek they’ve only been able to see each other during the skating season when they’re lucky enough to compete against each other, and whilst Yuri has very much enjoyed the brief times they’ve spent together, it’s always been overshadowed somewhat by the intensity of skating.

But it’s the off-season now, and it’s the first time they’re going to hang out together without the pressures of a competition surrounding them; away from the other skaters, Yuri’s fucking insane ‘Angels’ and mobs of pressing paparazzi. Namely, it’s the first time the two of them will be really alone with each other.

Yuri can’t wait. When he’d met Otabek during his first Grand Prix Series the two of them had immediately clicked in a way Yuri never has with another person before. Otabek is the definition of cool; he’s quiet and earnest, he rides an awesome motorcycle, he has an endless supply of leather jackets and he likes cats. He’s confident, but not overbearingly so like JJ is, and his voice is crazy deep but smooth and silky like melted chocolate.

So yeah, Yuri could say he kinda thinks Otabek is pretty awesome.

Otabek’s plane had taken off some time ago, and Yuri is due to meet him at the airport in a couple of hours’ time. Victor and Yuuri had offered to drive him there but Yuri had vehemently refused, mind flashing with all of the fucking _embarrassing_ things the two of them could end up saying to poor Otabek.

Yuri glances at the clock and notes that he’s running out of time, so he finally rolls off his clothes with a huff. God forbid he creases them and is forced to break out the iron.

Not that it matters if Otabek sees him looking scruffy, of course.

Otabek will be staying for a few days, and the two of them have spent the last few of their Skype calls excitedly planning what they’re going to do each day. As the host, Yuri is obligated to give Otabek at least a basic tourist tour of St. Petersburg, but they’d both agreed that they’re more interested in relaxing and spending time together than doing anything too crazy.

Otabek had insisted on the two of them going out tonight, though, as a way of celebrating the start of the off-season. Yuri is a little nervous, having had no real experience with the bar scene or any situation that involves alcohol in general (with the exception of the God awful nights when he has to babysit Victor and Yuuri after they decide to get drunk).

But that’s a problem to think about later. At this rate, he’s never going to leave his bedroom with how long it’s taking to decide on something as simple as a fucking outfit.

_Leopard print or purple?_

Fuck, he’s never going to make it to the airport on time.

“Yurio!”

Yuri rolls his eyes at the sound of Victor’s chirpy voice on the other side of his bedroom door, not in the mood to chat.

Yuri doesn’t live with Victor and Yuuri, not at all. Absolutely not. He just happens to use the spare room here whenever he’s tired after practice because it’s closer to the rink than Yakov’s place. And Yuuri just happens to be a better cook than Lilia, so it’d be a shame to let the good food go to waste. And just for convenience, Yuri keeps some of his clothes here to save him the extra travel. And his laptop. And his favourite blanket. But only for the convenience.

He makes no effort to give a reply, knowing all too well that Victor doesn’t tend to need his verbal participation in order to have a conversation with him.

As predicted, Victor doesn’t even knock, instead bursting into the room like the ray of blinding, obnoxious sunshine that he is. A delightful aroma of Katsudon wafts in after him; Yuuri must be cooking.

Victor face falls into a pout at the sight of Yuri’s hovel of a room, a literal cave with every source of natural light blocked out (just how Yuri likes it). “Yuri, sweetie, please let some daylight in here once in a while. It’s a beautiful day!”

Yuri grunts.

Victor marches across the room and pulls open the curtains, letting in a dazzling streak of light that has Yuri practically hissing like a vampire.

“Much better,” Victor smiles, dusting off his hands in a satisfied manner. He turns back to Yuri and looks him up and down, taking in the pyjamas he’s still wearing and the defeated spread-eagle position of his limbs. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

Because Yuri is having a meltdown over the colour of a damn shirt. And he’d like to do that in peace, if Victor would be so kind.

“Go away.”

Victor does quite the opposite, approaching the bed and slapping Yuri’s legs affectionately as he sings, “Come on, baby, get some pep in your step! Yuuri’s making you lunch and then you’ll have to leave to pick up Otabek.”

Yuri kicks him away with a scowl. Victor concedes and backs away with a laugh, turning to the door but quickly stopping in his tracks when his eyes fall on the small pile of clothes at the foot of Yuri’s bed.

Yuri’s face heats up. It’s probably pretty obvious what the clothes are doing there, all strewn about and still attached to their hangers since he’s only just taken them from the wardrobe. He raises an eyebrow, daring Victor to make some sort of comment.

But Victor miraculously manages to restrain himself, glancing at Yuri with a knowing smile.

“Go with the purple one,” is all he says, before winking and leaving the room.

Yuri stares at the space where Victor had been standing for a long moment before huffing, getting up again and pulling off his pyjama shirt.

He wordlessly changes into the purple tank, telling himself that he’d already made his mind up long before Victor chose it.

X

Otabek hasn’t changed a bit since the last time Yuri saw him. He’s already waiting there when Yuri arrives, dressed in a black leather jacket with sunglasses on his face to hide himself from any potential paparazzi or fans. He stands with one leg crossed in front of the other, holding the handle of his single suitcase with a gloved hand.

Effortlessly cool.

Without even realising what he’s doing, Yuri breaks into a run and throws himself at Otabek with a yell, nearly knocking both of them over with the sheer force of his hug. Otabek laugh rumbles against Yuri’s ear, sending a ripple down his spine.

“Good to see you, Yura.”

The afternoon passes by in a blur, the two of them taking up residence in a sweet coffee shop that Yuri likes. Despite neither of them being particularly chatty by nature, they never run out of things to talk about, laughing about this and that and catching up on everything they haven’t had time to mention during their Skype calls.

By the time it gets to evening when they’re getting ready to go out to the bar, Yuri’s cheeks are already aching from how much he’s been smiling. He isn’t sure how he’s going to last the full four days.

Otabek barely needs to make any sort of change to his appearance to make him look good, simply putting on a black button up shirt and pair of tight, black jeans. Yuri tries not to stare when Otabek changes his shirt, only just catching a glimpse of hard, bulky muscles and… shit, is that a _tattoo_ on his bicep?

Yuri bites his lip, wanting to ask about the tattoo but being unable to admit to Otabek that he’d been looking.

Yuri stands in front of the mirror and faffs around with his hair for a full ten minutes, pulling it back into a ponytail and then dropping it back down again, struggling to find a single hairstyle he likes.

“You should pull the top half into a ponytail and leave the rest down.”

Yuri lets go of his hair and turns around to blink at Otabek where he sits on the bed. Otabek just stares back at him, eyes a little wide but expression as neutral as usual.

“It… it looks good like that,” is all Otabek says.

Yuri nods. “Okay.”

So he ties half his hair up into a ponytail, leaving his bangs to fall around his face and combing through the rest of it before turning back to Otabek for approval. Otabek shoots him a small smile and a thumbs up.

When they’re both ready, they take a cab to the bar where they’ve already planned to meet Mila. She’d sort of invited herself along and Yuri had made a point of complaining about it but he is secretly glad she’ll be there. He’s still a little nervous about being completely alone with Otabek in a place like this.

The bar is relatively packed when the three of them arrive, filled with young adults all looking to blow off some steam after working all week. Mila leads them over to the last empty booth, narrowly beating two girls and quickly sliding onto the seat, getting a couple of dirty looks in response. Mila ignores them, beaming up at Yuri and Otabek as they join her.

“So what are we drinking?” Mila asks loudly over the music blasting from mediocre quality speakers.

Yuri blinks, shrugging uselessly. “Can I get a coke?”

Mila rolls her eyes. “No you definitely can’t. You’re eighteen now, Yuri, you’re getting a real drink!”

Yuri glances sideways at Otabek. He’s never been allowed to drink alcohol before, and Yuri is unsure of how he will react under the influence of it. But one drink couldn’t hurt, could it? Mila and Otabek would never let anything bad happen to him.

So Yuri sighs in defeat, and says, “Fine. Surprise me.”

Mila grins. “And you, Otabek?”

“Rum and coke,” Otabek answers without hesitation.

Mila nods in approval, and then disappears off to the bar. Yuri watches her go and then turns back to Otabek with a nervous smile.

“I, uh… I’m not much of a drinker,” he admits, hoping that the dim, reddish light in the bar masks the blush that fills his cheeks.

Otabek’s lips tilt up at the corners, eyes bright and earnest. “That’s okay, Yura. I’ll look after you.”

Yuri bites his lip to repress the wide grin that threatens to take over, eyes falling to his lap as he murmurs, “Thanks.”

Mila returns five minutes later with Otabek’s drink, a bottle of vodka and three shot glasses expertly clasped between her hands, setting them down on the table without spilling a drop.

“I’m in charge of pouring the shots tonight, boys,” she says, snapping the lid off the bottle and filling each shot glass to halfway. “Trust the expert.”

She slides a vodka shot each to Yuri and Otabek before picking up her own and downing it without even a grimace. Otabek follows suit and swallows his own, dark brows furrowing for a brief second as his Adam’s apple bobs. Yuri tries not to stare.

“And yours, Yura!” Mila says with a wide grin and a wink.

Yuri looks down at the tiny cup with mistrustful eyes. It’s such a small amount of liquid, how bad could it really be? He’s seen the effect that this drink can have on people, God, Victor turns into an overgrown, helpless man-child when he gets drunk. But Yuri isn’t Victor, he can handle himself way better. He’s not going to let one dumb drink turn him into a slobbering mess.

So he picks up the shot and tosses it back, squeezing his eyes shut as the liquid hits the back of his throat. It burns, and it makes him cough as he forces it down. Mila cheers for him as Otabek pats him on the back, helping him clear his lungs and watching him with a bemused smile.

Yuri takes a deep breath, blinking away a couple of tears that collected in the corner of his eyes. “Why do people drink this shit?!”

Mila and Otabek both laugh, glancing at each other with twinkling eyes.

“Because it’s fun, Yura!” Mila says. “Here, have another!”

Otabek raises an eyebrow. “Uh, maybe we should go at a slower pace, since this is Yuri’s first time drinking.”

Mila shrugs. “Eh, he’s Russian, he’ll be fine. Come on, Yuri!”

So Yuri does. He obediently swallows the next two shots that Mila gives him, and finds that they go down a little smoother each time. It doesn’t take long for his mind to start swimming, body blissfully warm and loose as he slumps closer and closer to the table. The music surrounding them is sounding better as well, pleasantly muffled and doing a surprisingly good job of making Yuri sleepy.

“Yuri?”

Yuri startles at the feeling of an impossibly warm arm snaking around his waist, and he forces his vision to focus on the person beside him. Otabek finally comes into view, a little blurred around the edges but still handsome and wearing a small, concerned frown.

Yuri suppresses a small hiccup and beams up at his friend. His jaw feels heavy, mouth struggling to form his speech properly as he slurs, “Hey, Beka.”

Otabek looks amused. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel _awesome_.”

He distantly hears Mila snickering, but he’s finding it very difficult to tear his eyes away from Otabek. Otabek, despite drinking more than Yuri, appears to be unaffected and remains as stoic and unruffled as he usually is. Yuri tries not to feel envious.

“I…” Yuri’s chest heaves as he hiccups. “I like your… leather.”

Otabek raises an eyebrow. “My leather?”

Yuri nods and tugs the sleeve of Otabek’s leather jacket, feeling as though he’s expressed himself perfectly. “You… you look… cool.”

Otabek smiles widely, a rare and heavenly sight. “Thank you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri sees Mila slide him another shot. He takes it without thinking, downing the vodka and feeling pleasantly buzzed at the room spins once more.

From that point on, things get a little… fuzzy. Yuri tries his hardest to focus on his surroundings and the sounds of his friends’ voices but it’s surprisingly difficult when everything he sees keeps going kind of wavy. Time jumps strangely as well, and what feels like barely five minutes suddenly turns into an hour.

Yuri pulls a face from where he sits slumped over the table when an upbeat, dance track begins to blast from the speakers. “Beka, your sets are… way better than this.”

“Oh, is this the DJing that you do?” Mila asks Otabek, turning to him with a bright smile. “I’d love to see you do that. You know, I’ve always thought DJ’s are pretty hot.”

Even in his befuddled state, Yuri can’t help rolling his eyes. Mila always gets horny when she’s been drinking.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Otabek says. “But next time I perform a set you should come along.”

“Really?” Mila lights up. “I’d love to! Could I come up onto the decks with you?”

“Sure. I could show you some of the basics too, if you’d like.”

Mila laughs, tossing her hair and fluttering her eyelashes at Otabek. Yuri tries not to barf. “Are you offering to be my teacher, Otabek?”

Otabek looks mildly taken aback, his cool demeanour slipping for just a second. “I, uh… yeah.”

“Well then…” Mila scoots closer to him, tracing her finger around the edge of her shot glass. “I promise to be a good student for you.”

Yuri nearly snorts in amusement, turning to Otabek and planning to make some kind of joke about Mila and her cringey attempts at flirting.

But he stops when he catches sight of Otabek’s face, his heart skipping a beat and his stomach diving hard enough to make him feel sick.

Otabek’s _blushing._

Yuri swallows heavily, suddenly feeling much more alert as he watches the gap between Mila and Otabek slowly grow smaller. Mila is asking Otabek more questions about his DJing, raving about how talented DJ’s are and how good-looking she finds them. She tells Otabek all about how she once dated a DJ and he turned out to be the best lover she’s ever had, because he had rhythm _._

Yuri has heard this kind of crap from Mila before; it’s not the first time he’s been subjected to witnessing Mila trying to get laid and he doesn’t particularly care about the words Mila is saying.

But he cares about the effect the words are having on Otabek. Yuri has never seen him like this before; almost nervous as he responds to Mila’s flirting with small smiles and quick-witted replies. A hint of pink still tinges his smooth, dark skin, sitting high on his sharp cheekbones and making Yuri twitch at the sight.

It shouldn’t be Mila who’s the one making Otabek look like that.

Yuri goes quiet until he stops speaking altogether, powerless to do anything but watch whatever the fuck this is unfold before his eyes, like a horror movie he can’t seem to look away from. Only one question bounces around his mind, hazy and disjointed from the vodka but inescapable all the same.

_Why is this bothering me so much?_

It gets to a point where Mila and Otabek are acting like they’ve forgotten Yuri is even here. Mila’s hand is on Otabek’s arm and she says something too quietly for Yuri to hear that has her and Otabek laughing. Yuri’s lip quivers, and his heart aches for the safety and comfort of Victor and Yuuri.

_I wanna go home._

He stands up quickly, almost losing his balance as the room spins with him. Mila and Otabek look up at him with concern.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Yuri says, shuffling out of the booth as fast as he can.

“Want me to come with you?” Otabek asks, frowning at the way Yuri sways where he stands.

Yuri shakes his head rapidly. “No. I’m fine.”

He hurries off in the general direction of the bathroom without looking back once. He finds it without too much trouble, bursting through the door and leaning over one of the grimy sinks with a grimace.

What the fuck is going on out there? Mila and Otabek? Yuri hadn’t expected this at all. He thought… he thought Otabek would be paying attention to _him_ all night, not Mila.

He supposes that Otabek and Mila are closer in age to each other. And maybe... maybe there’s a chance that Otabek prefers to be around bubbly girls with infectious laughs instead of moody, foul-mouthed teenagers. Yuri’s heart sinks at the thought. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise; with Otabek being as cool as he is, of course he’d prefer the company of someone like Mila compared to belligerent, awkward Yuri.

Yuri doesn’t think he can stomach another second of watching those two together.

He splashes a bit of cold water on his face, sighing heavily as he glances around. A window on the opposite wall catches his attention, relatively small but probably big enough for someone of his stature to fit through. Yuri looks back at the door, and considers the idea of returning back to the booth and watching Mila flirt with Otabek until they inevitably end up going home together. He scowls. He’d rather listen to Georgi wax poetic about his ex-girlfriend for three hours straight.

So Yuri makes an executive decision. After checking the room to ensure he’s the only person in here, he stumbles over to the window and opens the latch. The window is a little high up but even after nearly half a dozen shots of vodka Yuri is still nimble, and he clambers onto the nearest sink to heave himself through the small gap.

He manages to land outside on all fours like a cat, dusting off his jeans and dashing off on shaky legs before anybody sees him. If he were more sober, Yuri would probably admit that he hasn’t exactly thought this plan out, but with his head still whirling and his body moving on autopilot, he finds he doesn’t really care. All he wants is to get as far away from Mila and Otabek as possible and let Victor and Yuuri make the bad feelings go away.

Yuri gets lost countless times on his way home. Realistically, he should have taken a cab. St. Petersburg is a big city and can be pretty dangerous at night, and Yuri briefly acknowledges with a pang of guilt that his grandpa would kill him if he knew where he was right now.

Finally, just as his feet have started to go numb from the biting cold and excessive walking, Yuri catches sight of the familiar apartment block. The brisk night air has done a good job of sobering him up somewhat but he is still feeling shaky and loose-lipped, a large lump stuck in his throat that threatens to push out the tears he’s been supressing during the entire journey here.

Yuri pushes open the door to the lobby, misjudging the amount of force he needed and falling flat on his face against the hard tile. Ugh. As if he couldn’t feel any worse.

He half crawls, half drags his body to the stairs, forgetting altogether that the building has a magical thing called an elevator and instead beginning to climb the first flight. He manages a whole three steps before collapsing down, whining to nobody about how _dumb_ Victor is for buying an apartment on the damn fifth floor.

But he perseveres. He’s cold and tired and confused, wanting nothing more than a cuddle and maybe some of Yuuri’s damn good chicken nuggets.

By the time he makes it to the fifth floor, Yuri has hit his shins on the stairs approximately eighty-four times and is all but ready to pass out. He drags his feet as he approaches the front door of their apartment, surprised to hear movement and voices coming from the other side and wondering why Victor and Yuuri aren’t in bed yet. What time is it?

Yuri lifts his hand, feeling as heavy as led as he knocks on the door. He leans against the doorframe as he waits for a response, too tired to bother holding himself upright any longer.

The door is yanked open within three seconds, and Yuri is ambushed by an extremely loud and flustered Victor.

“Yuri! Where the hell have you been? Mila and Otabek called, they said you went to the bathroom and disappeared almost an _hour_ ago!”

Yuri’s lip quivers as just the sight of Victor dismantles the walls he’s built around himself. The floodgates behind his eyes finally break as he lets out a loud, ugly sob, slumping further against the doorframe. Victor’s arms immediately open and Yuri falls into them, relishing in the warmth and security they bring him.

Yuuri appears from behind Victor, eyes wide and clutching a phone to his ear.

“He’s here now, Otabek,” Yuuri says into the phone, holding a hand over his heart and exhaling heavily. “We’ve got him, he’s safe.”

Yuri just cries harder, burying his face into Victor’s chest and wailing, “ _I want chicken nuggets.”_

X

Yuri has never felt so pathetic in his life, sitting on Victor and Yuuri’s couch and wrapped up in a blanket as he snivels against Victor’s chest. Victor is quiet, allowing him the space he needs to weep as he waits patiently for Yuri to calm down.

After Yuri had broken down in the doorway, Victor and Yuuri had ushered him inside and fussed over him like two frantic mother hens. They’d settled him down on the couch and then Yuuri had dashed off to the kitchen, leaving Victor with the responsibility of warming Yuri up. He’d bundled him up in his favourite blanket, removed his shoes and socks and pulled Yuri into another hug, allowing his body heat to seep through and soothe Yuri’s trembling.

Yuri brings both his legs up onto the couch, leaning heavily against Victor and tucking his freezing feet between Victor’s legs to steal every bit of body heat he can.

Yuuri approaches them when Yuri has finally started to calm down, holding a plate of chicken nuggets and a pint sized glass of water with a bottle of ketchup tucked under his arm. He sits down on the other side of Yuri and shoots him a weak smile.

“Got your nuggets, Yurio. Your favourite.”

Yuri straightens up and grabs one off the plate, barely chewing as he allows the familiar taste to relax him. He eats four in a row before he even stops for a breath, relishing in the way they warm him up from the inside out. Yuuri takes advantage of the brief moment when Yuri stops eating to hand him the glass of water, helping him drink as Victor strokes his hair away from his face.

Yuri drinks nearly half the glass before munching on the chicken nuggets again.

“Fuck,” he mumbles around a large mouthful. “How do you make these so good?!”

Yuuri smiles. “They’re just freezer nuggets that I bought from the store, sweetie.”

Yuri doesn’t care. He continues to eat until the plate is empty, ignoring the fact that when he’s finished, there’s probably going to be questions _._ Questions he really doesn’t want to answer.

As predicted, when he pushes the plate onto the coffee table in front of them, he catches Yuuri and Victor give each other a special look _._

“Yuri,” Victor starts, using a softer tone of voice than usual. “You need to be honest with us, okay, because you did a very good job of worrying us all tonight. Why did you leave the bar without telling anyone and walk home alone?”

Yuri stares down at his lap. He’s quiet for a long moment, still unsure himself as to why exactly he got so upset. But if there’s anybody he can trust with his messed up emotions, it’s Yuuri and Victor.

So he sighs and mumbles, “Mila was flirting with Otabek.”

There’s a moment of silence as Victor and Yuuri wait for him to continue, but that’s about as much explanation as Yuri can provide in his current state. He flops back down against Victor.

“Okay,” Yuuri finally says slowly. “Mila was flirting with Otabek. Why did that make you feel like you needed to run away?”

“Because…” Tears rapidly fill his eyes again, and his voice catches. “Because Beka _liked_ it. He was _blushing_. And he was letting her touch his arm and he didn’t move away and he didn’t even care when I left –”

Yuuri quickly interrupts him. “Yuri, love, that’s not true. He’s been really worried about you; he’s been on the phone with us for ages trying to find you. I’ve never heard him like that before.”

Yuri blinks up at Yuuri, sniffling and mumbling, “Really?”

“Yeah, really. He cares about you, Yuri. A lot. More than you think he does.”

Yuri frowns. Is it possible that he might have misread Otabek in any way tonight?

“Look, honey,” Victor says, pulling Yuri out of his thoughts. “It’s not our place to tell you why you hated seeing Mila and Otabek together. That’s for you to come to terms with on your own, and we’re not going to push our opinions on you and confuse you. But don’t make yourself believe that Otabek doesn’t care for you.”

Yuri swallows heavily, and forces himself to nod.

“Where is he now?” he asks, stomach dropping when he remembers that Otabek was supposed to be staying with him tonight but Yuri had instead ended up abandoning him in an unfamiliar city. Shit. He’s the worst friend ever.

“He’s going to stay at Mila’s apartment tonight. It’s probably best for you two to talk again when you’re sober.”

Yuri looks up at Victor with wide, panicked eyes. “He’s staying with Mila?!”

Yuuri places a comforting hand on Yuri’s arm, smiling softly. “Otabek has already reassured us that they will be in _separate_ beds.”

Yuri breathes a sigh of relief. It’s probably obvious to Victor and Yuuri at this point why exactly Yuri is getting so wound up over the idea of Mila and Otabek, but in all honesty, Yuri isn’t sure he’s ready to admit it.

“Speaking of bed,” Victor says, poking Yuri in the side. “I think you need to get some sleep, too.”

Yuri is about to protest but he finds he’s too tired to even try and put together an eloquent sentence. Instead, he allows Victor to pick him up bridal style and carry him to his bedroom, Yuuri following them with Yuri’s water.

They help him change into pyjamas (one of Victor’s old shirts, at Yuri’s insistence) and Yuuri busies himself placing everything that Yuri might need within touching distance for him; water, painkillers for the morning and a waste bin on the floor in case of a gross emergency.

Yuri settles himself under the blankets, head spinning like crazy from the change in position but feeling too cosy and drowsy to really care. He sighs, relaxing into the soft pillows and pulling the blankets up to his chin.

His peace is quickly disturbed by Victor, who doesn’t seem to be finished with him yet.

“Hey, Yuri, one more thing. The city can be very dangerous at night,” he says sternly, though his hand still reaches out to brush through Yuri’s hair as though he’s petting a cat. “That was very reckless of you to wander around alone, especially while you were drunk.”

Yuri pulls a face. “’m not drunk.”

Victor snorts. “Yeah, whatever. But listen, just promise us you won’t do something like that again, alright? Unless you actually want to give me a heart attack.”

“Fine _,_ ” Yuri says, voice muffled by the blankets. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Victor stands up, and he and Yuuri head towards the bedroom door.

“Wait.” The vodka speaks for Yuri and before he knows it, he’s saying, “You two are… gonna be good parents someday.”

Victor and Yuuri light up before his eyes, beaming at each other and clutching hands like they’ve just seen God or something. Actual tears collect in both of their eyes and they look down at Yuri with matching expressions of adoration.

Man. Yuri is gonna regret _that_ in the morning.

Victor and Yuuri wish him goodnight, turning off the bedroom light and leaving him in darkness. Yuri’s heart skips a beat as he thinks of where Otabek is right now, in Mila’s apartment and probably feeling completely let down by him. Just the thought of the conversation the two of them will need to have tomorrow makes Yuri want to curl up into a ball and disappear into the bed sheets forever. He owes Otabek a very big apology.

And as for the reasons why he broke down at the idea of Otabek and Mila getting together… well, that’s a question for his sober mind to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand this'll be continued in the second part!
> 
> This was my first attempt at writing Otayuri, please let me know in the comments what you think!
> 
> Also come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://wing--it.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> And thank you to [Elle](https://kanekkis.tumblr.com//) for putting up with my endless dumb questions while I was writing and encouraging me whenever I start to run out of steam! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the night before, and Yuri has some feelings he needs to come to terms with.

When Yuri drifts into consciousness the next morning, he is one hundred percent sure that he is dying.

He tries to lift his head up from the confines of his blazing hot blanket prison but that proves to be too painful, an ache as heavy as Makkachin weighing heavily on his brain. He attempts to peel open his eyelids to try and make sense of his surroundings but they are stuck firmly shut. A desert has taken up residence in his mouth. His stomach has been invaded by a demon.

His mouth falls open and what should’ve been a string of curse words and a cry for Victor and Yuuri becomes nothing more than a pathetic groan. Even with his eyelids still glued shut he can sense a blinding streak of light poking in from between the curtains that hadn’t been closed properly the night before. Fucking Victor and his weird obsession with natural light.

It takes forever and a day for Yuri to pluck up the strength to crack open a single eye. The light hurts like a bitch, so he tugs up the blankets until they cocoon him completely. It’s disgustingly hot – Yuuri still isn’t used to the bitter St. Petersburg weather so often insists on having the heating on – but Yuri doesn’t have the energy to care.

_Shit. What the fuck happened?_

Most of Yuri’s memories of last night appear to have packed a suitcase and abandoned home. There was… vodka, definitely vodka. A wave of nausea rocks Yuri’s body as he is reminded of the sharp taste of it. And there was… a bar. And music, crappy music. Yep, yep, good, his mind is slowly coming back to him. Mila was there, as well, probably making bad choices and being the reason for Yuri’s current state. She kept laughing as well, what was she laughing at? There was… another person?

Yuri’s eyes fly open, and he jumps so high he nearly tumbles straight out of bed.

Fucking _shit_.

No. No no no no _no._ Otabek. He’d seen the whole thing. Seen Yuri collapsed on the table, drunk as a skunk and rambling about leather jackets. Watched with concern as Yuri staggered off to the bathroom like he was impersonating Captain Jack Sparrow. Been on the phone with Victor and Yuuri as they tried to track Yuri’s whereabouts for God knows how long after he’d escaped out of the damn bathroom window.

Oh, God. It all hits Yuri like a hurricane. Mila and Otabek. The flirting. _Humiliation._ Walking home in the freezing cold. Falling up the stairs multiple times. Victor and Yuuri’s matching looks of panic. Crying. Cuddles. _Chicken nuggets._

Yuri’s gonna barf.

He throws back the covers and rushes to the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet and heaving as his body breaks into a cold sweat. The distant sound of footsteps can be heard from down the hallway, rapidly approaching where Yuri is crouched.

“Yuri?” Yuuri’s voice is concerned but soft. He comes up behind Yuri and gently rubs his back. “It’s okay, get it all out.”

Yuri heaves again, moaning quietly when nothing actually comes up. Another figure appears on his other side, and they carefully start to pull Yuri’s hair back and tie it into a loose ponytail.

“Victor,” Yuuri says quietly over Yuri’s hunched back. “He needs to be sick but he’s struggling to bring anything up.”

“Uh, okay.” Victor pauses for a moment, a sign that he’s thinking which is never good. “Okay. Hey, Yurio? There are some people online who write erotica about you and JJ.”

Yuri’s stomach immediately contracts and he starts to expel all of the badness from last night, groaning for good measure to show the great distain he holds for Victor’s words. Because what the fuck _._

“Victor,” he hears Yuuri scold mildly.

“What? It worked, didn’t it?”

When Yuri has finished, Yuuri hands him a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. Then him and Victor help pull Yuri back up, leading him over to the sink and passing him his toothbrush.

Yuri feels a fraction better when he has a minty fresh mouth. He allows Yuuri and Victor to escort him back to his bedroom and lie him down in his bed. His eyelids are already feeling heavy, and he decides that his tired and achy body would definitely benefit from a good nap.

Yuri settles back against the pillows, the blankets feeling a lot less suffocating after his brief sojourn on the cold bathroom tiles. He sighs deeply as he tugs the blankets up, relieved that his stomach is feeling much better after getting rid of the vodka and allowing his eyes to drift shut.

They fly back open at the feeling of someone getting into bed beside him.

“What the…?” he grumbles, turning to glare in horror at Victor as he settles himself under the blankets too, lying on his side and looking at Yuri with a cheerful grin. Yuuri climbs onto the bed too, refraining from getting under the covers but making himself at home on Yuri’s other side as he crosses his legs and pulls a cushion onto his lap.

Yuri’s eyes dart between the two of them, body frozen in horror. “What the fuck is happening?”

Victor’s grin turns playful, and he reaches out to poke Yuri. “You said some very sweet things to us last night, you know.”

Yuri immediately turns defensive. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re losing your memory, old man.”

Victor’s smile still doesn’t diminish so Yuri turns away to look at Yuuri instead, horrified to see that Yuuri is wearing an identical joyful expression.

“Well, that thing that you _didn’t_ say?” Yuuri says. “We really appreciated it.”

Yuri’s cheeks heat up and he pulls the blankets up to cover half of his face. He’d rather read one of those erotic fictions about him and JJ than verbally acknowledge what he said last night about Victor and Yuuri being good parents. He mumbles, “Whatever.”

Victor and Yuuri both laugh softly, but are nice enough to not push Yuri any further.

“So how are you feeling this morning?” Yuuri asks him in that special delicate tone of voice that Yuri remembers him using last night.

Yuri shrugs. “Dunno. Embarrassed.”

“What actually happened last night then? Your drunken explanation was a little lacking,” Victor teases, though he finds Yuri’s hand under the blankets and gives it a quick squeeze.

Yuri sighs. “There’s not much to say. Mila was all over Otabek. Otabek liked it and let her touch him. I didn’t want to watch anymore so I left.”

“Well, from what Otabek told us last night, I don’t think that anything was actually going to happen between him and Mila,” Yuuri says. “He was actually pretty adamant about that.”

The embarrassment still coursing through Yuri’s veins brings out his petty side, and he grumbles, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Yuuri and Victor exchange a sympathetic look that makes Yuri squirm.

“Yuri, can we ask you a question?” Victor asks. He reaches out a hand and gently strokes a stray strand of Yuri’s hair away from his face. “Why exactly did it hurt so much to see Mila flirting with Otabek?”

Yuri is immediately flustered, words getting tangled as the mere thought of Mila and Otabek together sends his mind reeling. “B-because! It was gross, and she’s embarrassing and nobody should have to witness her trying to get laid.”

Victor’s lips tilt up at the corner. “True, but you’ve been around Mila lots of times when she’s flirting with people, and it hasn’t been a problem then. Why was it a problem when it was Otabek she was flirting with?”

Yuri swallows around a lump in his throat. Victor has this knowing look in his eyes, like he’s seeing past the thick layer of bullshit Yuri usually surrounds himself with. Yuri feels exposed.

“I wanna go back to sleep,” he mumbles, tugging the blankets even higher over his face until Yuuri and Victor’s earnest expressions disappear from view completely.

Victor concedes. “Look, honey, we’re not going to pressure you into admitting something you’re not ready to. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want. But there was a _reason_ why you didn’t like seeing Mila flirt with Otabek, and whether you want to admit it or not, I think you know what that reason is.”

Yuri is hit with a flashback of his and Otabek’s perfect, peaceful afternoon in the coffee shop together the day before. Otabek had been sipping coffee, black with about four sugars dumped in, and Yuri had been ranting about how insane a person must be to be able to drink something so disgusting. Instead of fighting back Otabek had simply laughed, eyes twinkling, and leaned in to bring himself closer to Yuri. It’d made butterflies erupt in Yuri’s stomach, bouncing off the walls inside him and leaving him unable to finish his soda.

But Yuri always gets butterflies in his stomach when Otabek is around. That’s just what happens around friends… right?

Fuck, _right?_

Yuri’s mouth has gone dry. He pulls down the blankets and peeks up at Yuuri and Victor. Their matching expressions of earnest sympathy are enough of an answer for him.

Yuri feels as though the floor has been swept out from under him (metaphorically speaking). _Shit._ Maybe all this isn’t what happens around friends. Yuri is essentially clueless, having had no real experience to reflect on since he’s never exactly been great at socialising. He’s got Mila, sure, but she’s the type of friend to have a laugh with rather than a really deep emotional bond. And there’s Yuuri and Victor, but they’re more like… God save him, parents than actual friends.

Otabek has always been different though. They always have a million things to talk about despite neither of them being social butterflies with other people. They have a lot in common and similar dry senses of humour. Yuri feels exhilarated when he’s around Otabek, even if it’s just a late night Skype call with the two of them barely able to communicate through their wide yawns and drooping eyelids. Otabek makes Yuri feel good about himself, like he’s not awkward and aggressive and intolerable, but just… Yuri.

Yuri shakes his head, heart beating wildly against his ribcage at the mere thought of him and Otabek being… something more. “But we’re friends, wouldn’t it be weird?”

Victor frowns. “Why would it be?”

“Because we’ve known each other for years without anything… happening. You two were acting all lovey-dovey from the second you met.”

“Well, in my defence, I really didn’t stand a chance when I first laid eyes on Yuuri,” Victor says with a blissful smile. “I’m sure you’d be acting lovey-dovey with Otabek too if he’d seduced you with a half-naked pole dance in a room full of people.”

“Victor!” Yuuri squeals, throwing the cushion in his lap at his laughing fiancé.

“Do you want me to barf again?” Yuri groans.

They both laugh again, and Yuuri leans closer to rub Yuri’s arm.

“How’s your tummy now?” he asks, as if it’s in any way acceptable for a grown man to use the word ‘tummy’. “Do you think you can manage some breakfast?”

Yuri only shrugs, too absorbed in his own thoughts to give a verbal response.

“I’ll make you some toast, something easy for you to eat,” Yuuri says. “And you, Vitya? Pancakes?”

Victor gazes up at Yuuri with that usual look of adoration. “Yes, please, my love!”

Yuuri clambers off the bed, squeezing Victor’s leg as he goes, and instead of making a disgusted kind of comment like he usually would Yuri instead finds himself dreaming about what it’d be like if _he_ made Otabek pancakes one morning. It’s a sickeningly domestic thought, but it’s one that makes his heart beat faster as though it’s dancing. He suddenly sees Victor and Yuuri’s relationship from a whole new perspective.

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asks.

Yuri huffs, disbelief clear in his own voice. “If Beka would like pancakes for breakfast, too.”

Victor beams. “I personally think you and Otabek would make a very sweet couple.”

Yuri gulps, mind whirring as he finally allows himself to imagine it. Victor sees the change in his demeanour and sobers up, squeezing his hand again and giving him a soft smile.

“You need to talk to him, love,” he urges. “He’ll be dying to hear from you.”

X

Yuri feels much more human once he’s eaten and showered (which leads Yuuri and Victor to make several mournful comments about the youth of today and just how quickly they can bounce back from hangovers). He’d sent Otabek the dreaded ‘Come over’ text about twenty minutes ago and now he sits on the couch waiting for Otabek to arrive. He can sense Yuuri and Victor hovering in the kitchen but he ignores them, mind too focused on chewing off every single one of his fingernails and trying not to vomit at the thought of what Otabek might say about last night.

By the time the door knocks, Yuri’s stomach has twisted into a tight, very uncomfortable knot. He makes no attempt to move, body stuck to the couch as he stares wide-eyed at the door. Victor takes pity on him, and goes over to open the door himself.

“Hi, Otabek, come on in!”

“Thanks, Victor. How is he?”

Yuri’s stomach drops altogether at the sound of Otabek’s voice, that deep and mellow tone that Yuri likes so much. It sends a shiver rushing down his spine, as if someone has tipped ice down his back.

He can practically hear the suggestive wink in Victor's voice when he says, “He’s right over there, you should ask him yourself.”

He hears footsteps begin to pad towards him, and he finds himself a very interesting spot on the carpet to stare at. Otabek can be difficult to read sometimes, and Yuri is terrified that his best friend is mad at him.

Yuri doesn’t look up until the couch dips beside him, peeking through his bangs at Otabek as he settles down.

A few seconds of unbearable silence pass before Yuri breaks it, unable to stand the tension.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, fiddling with a stray thread on his shirt. “I’m an idiot.”

Otabek surprises him by smirking. “You scared the shit out of me last night, you know that?”

Yuri winces. “I didn’t mean to. I… I blame the vodka. And the bartender for giving it to us. And the whole of Russia for being so obsessed with it.”

Otabek huffs out a laugh. “I blame the vodka, too. And Mila, a little. She was intent on getting you wasted for the first time.”

Yuri tries not to bristle at the sound of Mila’s name on Otabek’s lips. “Yeah, well. I think she did a pretty good job of it.”

Otabek smiles before his expression softens. “So, from your point of view, what happened last night? One minute you were almost passed on the table, you said you were going to the bathroom and then you just… disappeared.”

Yuri’s cheeks set fire, and he subtly pulls his hair over his face to hide his blush from Otabek. “I… wanted to go home.”

“But when did you even leave? The bathroom was in the opposite direction to the door and I didn’t see you pass our table.”

 _Goddammit._ Yuri thinks he may be the first person in history to literally die from humiliation. “I, uh… turns out I could fit through the bathroom window.”

Otabek snorts, and it makes Yuri’s eyes fly up to stare at him. “You… you escaped through the bathroom window. Of course you did.”

Yuri is immediately defensive. “Well, maybe I should’ve left through the front door instead since you were too wrapped up in Mila to even notice.”

That makes Otabek’s face fall, and a wave of guilt rocks Yuri’s body. He bites his lip and waits anxiously for Otabek’s response.

“What does that mean?” Otabek asks, always so patient even when Yuri acts up.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Yuri can’t help bursting out. “You spent the whole night flirting with her! It… it was like you forgot I was even there!”

Otabek has the nerve to look confused. “Flirting? I wasn’t flirting with Mila.”

Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Are you kidding? You were blushing. You let her put her hands all over you. You were laughing at all her dumb jokes which I know for a fact are never funny.”

“I…” Otabek looks flustered, a sight Yuri has rarely seen in their three years of friendship. Otabek sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I wasn’t flirting with Mila. I… I noticed she was flirting with me and I didn’t know how to reject her advances so I just went along with it.”

A bubble of hope rises in Yuri’s chest, though he can’t help scoffing, “Beka, you didn’t have to flirt with her just because she flirted with you. You’ve dated before, you must know that.”

That causes the tiniest tinge of pink to grace Otabek’s beautifully chiselled cheekbones, and Yuri’s chest puffs up in satisfaction for being the one to make Otabek look like that.

“Actually, uh…” Otabek rubs at the side of his head where the hair is shaved. “I have dated in the past but not as much as... you might think.”

“Really?” Yuri can’t help but feel taken aback. “Why not? You’re hot.”

He would feel embarrassed by his brazen choice of words but it deepens the blush on Otabek’s cheeks in the prettiest way, so Yuri decides he can skip any feelings of awkwardness this time.

“I’ve been told that I come across as a little intense, sometimes. Apparently that makes me unapproachable,” Otabek admits. “So no, I don’t get a lot of people asking me out, and I’m not the type to put myself out there and make the first move either so… yeah.”

“Oh,” is all Yuri says, mouth parted uselessly.

Otabek still looks uncomfortable, rubbing his thigh. “So the reason why I didn’t tell Mila I wasn’t interested is because I just didn’t know how to. I’m not all that familiar with the… the flirting protocol.”

“The flirting protocol?” Yuri repeats incredulously before throwing his head back and laughing out loud. “Oh my God. You’re such a dork _.”_

Otabek lights up when Yuri laughs, lips tilting up at the corners and staring directly into Yuri’s eyes for the first time since he sat down. “You have a beautiful laugh, Yura.”

Yuri’s breath catches, and his mind short-circuits for a wild moment as he blinks back at Otabek. “Y-yeah?”

Otabek nods, a teasing smile still playing around his lips. “Yeah.”

Yuri’s face breaks into a wide smile of his own, and he finds himself leaning in closer to Otabek when something over Otabek’s shoulder suddenly catches his eye. He straightens up, shooting a ferocious look at the audience of two who are watching them from behind the breakfast bar, hands both reaching into the box of cereal on the counter as they snack away like they’re in a damn movie theatre.

Victor and Yuuri both fly into a panic when they realise they’ve been caught, Victor flinching and sending the cereal exploding out across the room and all over the floor. The two of them scramble to look innocent, knocking over everything on the counter and making Makkachin bark at the commotion.

Yuri rolls his eyes, and shoots an apologetic look at Otabek. “Wanna talk in my room instead?”

Otabek nods and stands up. Yuri takes his hand and leads him past the kitchen where Victor and Yuuri are putting on their best _‘Quick, Act Natural’_ performances, with Victor frowning pensively at the blank fridge door and Yuuri chopping up a banana with the peel still on.

“Sorry about them,” Yuri says when they enter his room. He makes a point of shutting the door behind them tightly.

“It’s fine,” Otabek says, looking amused. “It’s sweet that they care about you so much.”

Yuri grumbles, trying to ignore the warm and frankly _sickening_ feeling when he remembers how Yuuri and Victor had helped him last night. “They have their moments, I guess. Wanna sit down?”

They settle themselves on Yuri’s bed, and after the brief interruption to their conversation, Yuri finds that he has lost his nerve again. He crosses his legs and turns his attention back to his fingernails, mumbling, “So there’s really nothing between you and Mila?”

Otabek is quiet for a moment and the pause is enough to make Yuri look up at him again, heart caught in his throat.

“No,” Otabek finally says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I get on well with Mila, and I think she’s fun to be around. But she’s not the person I travelled all this way to see, is she?”

Now it’s Yuri’s turn to blush again. He looks down to hide his smile, chest loosening from the overwhelming sensation of relief he feels. “I’m sorry for acting so weird last night. I just… seeing you and Mila like that… it did something to me. Kinda fucked with my head a little.”

“I understand.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Mhm. If I saw someone flirting with _you_ I’d probably react the same way.”

Yuri’s heart skips a beat. “Really?”

Otabek smirks. “Well, I probably wouldn’t go as far as _escaping out the bathroom window –_ ”

 _“Hey._ We both agreed I was too drunk to be held accountable for my dumb actions.”

Otabek laughs, and then says, “But I know I wouldn’t like it. The thought of it fucks with my head a little, too.”

They stare at each other, time standing still and collapsing around them. Yuri can’t tear his eyes away from Otabek’s, drawn into them like a magnet as he unconsciously licks his lips. When he speaks again, his voice comes out soft and shy in a way that sounds alien to his own ears. “What are we gonna do about that, then?”

Otabek edges closer, the distance between them growing smaller as Yuri’s senses are overwhelmed with the familiar fresh smell of Otabek’s shower gel, combined with the faintest trace of leather from his motorcycle. It reminds Yuri of racing through the back streets of Barcelona, of the exhilarating feel of wind against his cheeks, of the feeling of a warm back pressed against his chest. Of _freedom._

“Do you trust me?” Otabek murmurs, voice gravelly in a way Yuri has never heard it before.

Yuri nods, chest tightening once more as his breath leaves him in a rush.

Otabek leans in, body heat mingling between them in the most intoxicating way. His voice is barely a whisper, and Yuri feels the words against his lips more than he hears them when Otabek breathes, “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

Yuri’s heart stops altogether when Otabek covers his mouth with his. He gasps against Otabek’s lips, butterflies awakening in his stomach and thumping against his insides as the two of them kiss slowly. It’s a sensation Yuri has never experienced before, and he suddenly finds himself wondering why the fuck the two of them haven’t been doing this since the moment they met three years ago.

He tugs Otabek closer, mouth parting to deepen the kiss. Otabek’s lips are warm and soft, slightly dry but that’s okay, and the sense of them moving gently against Yuri’s is enough to leave him feeling drunker than if he’d downed half a bottle of vodka. Otabek tastes like coffee, disgusting bitter coffee with way too many sugars, but this time Yuri thinks he can make an exception for it.

A whimper escapes from him when Otabek pulls away, a sound that Yuri will vehemently deny making until his dying day. His lips tingle, and he touches them with his fingertips in a dreamlike state.

_Shit._

_Wow._

Otabek’s pupils are blown wide, but he still analyses Yuri with a look of concern. “Was that okay?”

Yuri’s mind has essentially shut down, rendering him speechless, so he instead answers Otabek’s question by cupping the back of his neck and pulling him back in. Otabek goes willingly, and the two of them lose themselves in each other’s mouths as they kiss until their lips are swollen on Yuri’s unmade bed.

The next time they break apart is out of necessity, both gasping for air as they clutch each other’s overheated bodies.

“So,” Otabek laughs breathlessly, the gentle puff of air caressing Yuri’s skin. “If it’s not already clear, I like you, Yura. A lot. Shit, I’m crazy about you.”

Yuri beams, a tiny laugh bubbling out of him as his stomach does happy flips. “Yeah, I guess you’re not too bad yourself, Altin.”

“I can’t believe this took us so long,” Otabek sighs, though his eyes are still crinkled at the corners with his gorgeous, small smile.

They trade several more ardent kisses before Yuri pulls back, running a hand through Otabek’s hair. “Hey, do you wanna go out tonight? Just us two?”

Otabek cocks an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out on a date, Plisetsky?”

Yuri smirks. “Don’t get cocky, Altin. I’m just thinking I still owe you that tourist tour of St. Petersburg.”

“Sounds good to me,” Otabek smiles back before leaning in and capturing Yuri’s lips again.

They’re quickly interrupted by the sound of Yuri’s phone going off in his pocket. He groans, dragging himself away from Otabek and giving the screen a quick glance.

 

 ** _Mila:_** _Yuri! I just spoke to Victor and I’m so so sorry about last night, I had no idea how you felt about Otabek! If I’d have known I never would have flirted with him like that, I swear!_

 

Yuri rolls his eyes. Fucking Victor and his damn motor mouth.

But with the warmth still radiating from Otabek beside him, Yuri finds that he doesn’t really care about anything else. He isn’t mad at Mila. She didn’t do anything wrong last night; she’s single, Yuri had never made any sort of claim on Otabek, and Mila had just been harmlessly flirting. If Yuri hadn’t even been aware of his own feelings for Otabek, he couldn’t have expected Mila to know about them, and he certainly won’t hold that against her now.

 

_**Yuri:** i know. you didnt do anything wrong, dont apologise_

_**Mila:** So we’re okay?? Still friends, right?_

__

_**Yuri:** dont ask stupid questions hag_

__

_**Mila:** Hey! That’s no way to talk to your elder_

 

Yuri smirks, pocketing his phone instead of replying and looking back up at Otabek.

Otabek runs his fingers through Yuri’s hair, delicately tucking it behind Yuri’s ear and making his shudder at the touch. “So what are our plans for the rest of the day, then?”

“Well,” Yuri thinks. “We can walk along the canal, see the cathedral, sit in the park and have ice-cream if the sun’s out…”

“Wow, Yura, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“I’m not,” Yuri shrugs. “It’s different with you, though. I kinda want to do these sappy, dumb things with you.”

Otabek smiles. “I wanna do these sappy, dumb things with you, too.”

Yuri plants a small kiss on Otabek’s lips, soft but filled with the promise of something more.

“But before all that,” he murmurs. “We’ve got three years of kisses to catch up on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write! I was nervous about writing from Yuri's POV but it actually wasn't as difficult as I thought it'd be!
> 
> And I'm sorry for the delay in posting, things got a little crazy at home but we're back on track now.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://wing--it.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And thank you for reading! I hope you have a wonderful night ❤


End file.
